


Two Bachelors and an Angel

by HandheldAshtray



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angel Castiel, M/M, Pet Castiel, Shota Castiel, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 05:17:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandheldAshtray/pseuds/HandheldAshtray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean, thinking he was being clever, buys Sam a Christmas present. At first it seems perfect, however upon collect, Dean is more than a little surprised by his purchase. </p><p>"Sam had chimed in for the billionth time about fridge Darwinism, dirty laundry and how he never had time to keep the place clean any more. Work had gotten heavy for him and Dean wasn't shy of work himself; except when it came to the chores. And that's when the bright idea had sparked and an Angel had seemed like the perfect solution to a fairly simple problem. They were autonomous, pretty and usually came with a bevy of neat tricks for keeping the house fresh as a daisy. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Bachelors and an Angel

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter of a fic that I've been wanting to write for a long time. I am essentially putting out feelers to see if it's worth writing and I hope that you enjoy it! As things progress they may become more heated, but as of yet things are just getting started! This fic is a gift for someone, but I wont be putting a name to them just yet :) 
> 
> Also a working title, I am open to suggestions! 
> 
> Un-beta'd, so if you see any mistakes please please flag them up to me!  
> I hope to hear what you think, even if you hate it.  
> All the best and thank you in advance,  
> Bunny.

Chapter 1: A not so perfect solution.

 

Dean couldn't help but feel cheated.

 

Okay, so it was his own fault, he should have researched better, listened to Sammy closer and actually sat down and read up about the damn thing. But being the infamous Dean Winchester, he'd decided once again to wing it. And boy he'd made a mess this time.

 

Arriving at the pet store, he'd been a little nervous. All the paperwork had been done, signed, dated and with just under a grand changing hands Dean had been fairly sure he'd just secured him and Sammy the bargain of the century. Angel's were expensive. Highly prized and rare to come by, but this one had been cheap and now Dean could see why. The bar had kept him from coming to try before he bought, and now, weeks later in the sobering light of day, Dean realised just how big a mistake those beers had been.

 

In his defense, he'd never wanted an Angel until Sam suggested it. 34 and 30 they still lived together; treacherously codependent and happy bachelors living a happy bachelor lifestyle. Dean had inherited Bobby's garage after he'd died and Sam was the high flying lawyer he'd always dreamed of being. Everything had been perfect. The start had been a little rocky, more than a little rough on them both but as they aged the Winchester boys had matured like fine wine. Well, Sammy had, Dean was pretty sure years of hard drink and little sleep had left him pickled in the body of a 24 year old.

 

But mid-Novemeber Sam had chimed in for the billionth time about fridge Darwinism, dirty laundry and how he never had time to keep the place clean any more. Work had gotten heavy for him and Dean wasn't shy of work himself; except when it came to the chores. And that's when the bright idea had sparked and an Angel had seemed like the perfect solution to a fairly simple problem. They were autonomous, pretty and usually came with a bevy of tricks for keeping the house fresh as a daisy.

 

At 27, Dean had figured this one would be perfect. Old enough to be house broken, the advert had said so, and apparently well trained. The black wings had simply served to solidify in Dean's mind the perfect addition to their ragtag bunch. Gender was irrelevant, but Dean figured a guy would be a safer bet and then at least he wouldn't have to worry himself about the damn thing getting pregnant. And hey, 27 was usually a good mix between fun loving and homely in chicks, so he couldn't help but think; why not Angels too?

 

What Dean hadn't expected to be met with when he walked in to Crowley's shop was exactly what he got. At 4 foot something the fledgling was more fluff than feather. No previous owners made sense now, so did the unruliness that Dean had been warned about, not to mention the price. And just like that, Dean knew he'd fucked up.

 

“Now, Castiel,” Crowely spoke easily, smooth English accent washing over Dean in a chilling wave as he straightened up the boys hair a little and glanced calmly at Dean, “Say hello to the nice man, this is Dean, he's going to take you home.” It must have shown on Dean's face, like a rabbit in the headlights he was stood frozen and shaking his head at the poor creature. But then it looked at him, eyes wide and blue and spoke in a voice more befitting a grown man, low and rough as it's head was tilted inquisitively, “Hello Dean.” The child was obviously as confused as Dean was, not expecting the owner he'd been presented with and it figured. Dean had heard many a horror story about lonely old men buying pretty young Angels for less than holy purposes. And of course there was that old lady he always saw at the grocery store, tugging her fledgling along my the hand and feeding it candy by the handful.

 

“Uh...” Dean began, glancing at Crowley and raising an eyebrow, then back to the Angel. “You sure he's 27? Not to make too big a deal out of it but the kid looks about 14 at a push.” He was being generous with the estimation, 12 was probably closer but none the less he had to ask. And Crowley looked at him, amused and grinning. “They live until they're about 200 Mr Winchester, some have been known to live until 400, so yes, I'm sure he's 27. I'm also sure he's been signed, paid and 'inspected'” the words came in air quotes and made Dean's stomach turn, “by you. So he's yours, by binding contract.” The sly grin gave him away, and Dean felt the first prickles of fury beginning to burn in his blood.

 

He stared at the store owner, aghast and openly humiliated by his own idiocy. He was about to argue, poised and formulating his excuses when there was a sharp tug at his sleeve, prompting him to look down. There was the kid again, looking up at him with those big baby blues and Dean knew, for the final time that he was well and truly screwed. “Does he need to go to school or something? What does he need?” Though he didn't take his eyes off the fledgling Dean wasn't speaking to him, absently taking hold of the Angel's skinny wrist.

 

“He is fully educated to a high school level. Castiel here was quite academic, he's a clever little bugger, shame he's so... disobedient.” Dean looked at Castiel, who continued to stare at him impassively, back turned to Crowley, not even acknowledging him whilst he spoke. “But I am sure that you can train that out of him Mr Winchester.” That gained a reaction from the fledgling, his lips tightened and his gaze hardened he hand going limp and hanging heavy on his wrist which was still trapped between Dean's large fingers.

 

He was going to argue. They needed someone to help with the housework, not someone to clean up after, but the kids face had sold him better than any advert. Dean had a fairly good idea of what Crowley's version of training entailed and he wasn't about to drop the creature back into his care. Not now. Despite what anybody said, including Dean himself, he was a soft ass at times. Usually bad times. Letting go of Castiel's wrist, Dean finally looked back to Crowley and nodded once, firmly, “Well yeah, thanks for all your help.” He grinned and spoke through gritted teeth, a sarcastic raising of his eyebrows to illustrate the point, “But I guess I'd better get this one home, get him settled in and all that.”

 

A final sharp nod, and Dean then stooped, putting a hand on each of Castiel's shoulders with a small smile. “Well, nice to meet you Cas, time to get you home I guess.” He finished up, the fledgling was still stiff, holding himself rigidly and clearly fighting the urge to flinch away from Dean's touch. His wings had ruffled up despite their downy softness, only edged with the usual clean cut feathers of Angels, and Dean rubbed the kids arm as soothingly as he could. “C'mon.” His tone was final as he stood back up and moved over to the counter, and after a begrudging handshake and picking up Castiel's bag, Dean was holding open the store door, and beckoning Castiel towards him.

 

Once out of the store, Dean led the fledgling to his car, and after a few basic rules, they both settled into the Impala. Castiel was riding shotgun in Sammy's seat and strapped in, just in case. Dean was silent in the drivers seat, trying to figure out how he was going to explain the whole mess to Sam. The tension that crowded the already small space was unsettling and Dean finally caved, switching the radio on and to a soft rock station without a word.

 

Glancing sideways he could see how those big blue eyes stared out of the Impala window, curious and eager to sample the world outside of Crowley's pet shop and to learn just exactly why Mr Winchester had wanted him. The music was soft and soothing to his young, inexperienced ears and his owner seemed polite and nice enough; if a little tense. “So, we got you a cage, it's pretty big and I got you a load of throws and stuff to put in it, make it a bit more homely for you.” Dean explained, uncomfortable and more than a little panicked. He couldn't justify keeping a kid in a cage, Angel or not, and honestly the whole thing was beginning to leave a sour taste in his mouth.“It's only temporary, don't worry.” He added hurriedly, frowning as he parked the Impala easily onto the driveway of Sam and his suburban nightmare. “We'll set up your bedroom when we figure out what sort of things you like, okay?” He rambled on, switching off the engine and looking nervously at the fledgling.

 

“That is fine Dean. I do not wish to be a nuisance, only to assist in making your life easier.” Came the automatic, mechanical response and Dean felt his stomach flop uncomfortably once more. “Do not worry about me.” He added, finally turning to the human with a small, benevolent smile and a knowing nod. Dean couldn't help but think that the kid gave him the creeps, and prayed silently that he would eventually either get used to him or that Cas would grow out of the weird robotic thing quick.

 

Awkwardly, in an attempt to break the mounting tension Dean reached into the back seat, and pulled Castiel's small duffle bag into his lap with ease. “So, want to go in or what?” He questioned, licking his lips nervously and thanking God that Sam wouldn't be home for at least another couple of hours, enough time to at least start to get Castiel adjusted. Though Dean didn't wait for a response, instead pushing open the Impala door and then pushing it closed, with his hip. Refusing to look back, Dean feigned confidence as he walked up to the front door and after a brief struggle found the right key. He heard the soft bang of the Impala's other door closing and kept his eyes firmly on the keyhole.

 

Opening up the door, he dropped Castiel's duffle bag gently to the floor and kicked off his shoes and pushed them to one side with a socked foot. He took a few steps inside and then paused, waiting until he heard the shuffling of curious, apprehensive feet behind him and then the soft click of his front door. “I'm thinking take out for dinner and maybe a beer or two if you feel like it?” He asked, looking at Castiel with as much apparent disinterest as he could muster. The fledgling looked perplexed at the small pile of shoes next to the door, frowning and Dean couldn't help but grin. He watched The Angel drop to the floor, and carefully unlace his shoes, slipping them off and placing them neatly next to the haphazard pile of Dean and Sam's. “I do not need to eat anything Dean. It is only occasionally that I feel hunger and alcohol does not affect me, however if it is your wish to drink together, we can.”

 

Turning to face Castiel fully Dean continued to watch as the fledgling raised himself easily back to his feet and fixed Dean with the same unwavering stare that he had fallen victim to in the store. The same curious, perplexed tilt of the head, the small crease in his brow that betrayed Castiel's age. That'd take some getting used to. Dean knew it would; knew that for weeks to follow, if they decided to keep him, that he'd have to keep reminding himself that Castiel wasn't a kid, he just looked like one. And god damn if he didn't look like one. Frowning in response, Dean collected his thoughts and then after a short pause managed to think of something to say. “Yeah, well, suit yourself Cas. Make yourself at home, literally buddy, looks like you're here for the long haul.”


End file.
